


A Second Chance

by nonomo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mild Smut, Not Beta Read, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonomo/pseuds/nonomo
Summary: Taking place after the season 7 finale. Daenerys and Jon travel north to Winterfell and prepare for the war against the dead.





	1. Road to Winterfell

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta reader or editor so forgive all my terrible mistakes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of short drabbles salvaged from my failed attempt to write a season 8 fic. It is missing some major events but I will fill those in in later chapters. Taking place during our heroes journey to Winterfell and the events after. Focusing on Jon and Dany. 
> 
> This will be multi chapter. ;)

"Jon."  
  
Daenerys' voice was soft, barely a whisper on her breath, almost inaudible against the soft crashing of waves against the ship's hull.  
  
"Jon," she whispered again. Her head rested on his shoulder, her eyes upturned to watch his sleeping form. He looked so much younger with his hair down and his face relaxed. She felt it too, a sense of calm that had been missing from her life for so long she had forgotten it even existed. This ship, this room, offered a rare reprieve from the wars to come and the responsibilities that burdened them both. She had no plans on wasting it.  
  
She let her hand wander over the well-defined muscles of his stomach, enthralled with the soft trail of goosebumps that followed in her fingers wake. She traced the red angry scars that marred his body before resting her hand on his chest. She laid there for a moment, calmed by his warmth and the slow and steady rhythm of his beating heart.  
  
But the memories of the previous night were still fresh in her mind. Memories of being held, then taken. Their bodies wrapped around each other, their limbs tangled and their shared moans filling the room. A familiar welcomed warmth pooled between her legs and unable to keep still she slipped closer to him, biting her lip as she pressed her hips against his thigh.  
  
"Jon," she whispered louder this time before pressing a soft kiss against the hollow of his throat. Her tongue dipped out to taste him.  
  
A soft half asleep mummer escaped his lips as she kissed her way across his collarbone before grazing her teeth over the crook of his neck.  
  
His murmur turned into a moan. The hand that rested on the small of her back spread out, the tips of his fingers dancing over her bare skin before rubbing a soft slow circle up and down as if testing if she was truly there. Her breath caught in her throat as more memories of what those hands had done to her last night flashed in her mind.  
  
"Morning," his voice was soft but hoarse with sleep. She smiled wide at him before capturing his lips, moaning his name into his mouth as her tongue slipped over his. He still tasted of the wine they shared last night.  
  
She pulled away with a breathless gasp and slid her cheek against his, delighting in the sensation of his beard against her.  
  
"It's morning."  
  
"It is." Daenerys nodded against him. Her hand slipped over his stomach once more, enjoying the feeling of the muscle tensing under her touch.  
  
"Missandei will surely be here soon."  
  
She lifted herself up slightly to look down at him.  
  
"She will," she agreed, ignoring his unasked question.  
  
"I can leave… before." his eyes went to her cabin door before falling back on her. She smiled back at him. Her stupid noble northern fool trying to save her honor.  
  
"No," she replied her hand trailing lower until she found her prize, "You will stay."  
  
"Daenerys" her name came out as a throaty desperate moan. A sound she had come to quite enjoy hearing. Her fingers wrapped gently around his length making Jon hiss out another hoarse moan. The sound and the sight of him straining under her sent a thrill up her spine.  
  
She lifted her leg, slipping over his to straddle him. His hands went to her hips his eyes going wide as the silk sheet pooled around her waist. She bit back the pleasurable whimper as she sank down onto him.  
  
"You will stay," she moaned breathlessly as she began rolling her hips. "You will stay."  
  
  
                                    ***  
  
  
"You never told me he bent the knee." Tyrion's voice broke the peace she had found at the stern of the ship. She gazed outwards over the Narrow sea watching the sun begin to set before turning to her Hand.  
  
Truthfully she was surprised he had taken this long to approach her. He had not broached the subject during their midday council meeting nor when they had all met for dinner. Tyrion was an intelligent man. A man that took pride in knowing the going ons of the people around him. Only a fool would think what had happened between her and Jon could have gone unnoticed and she was no fool.  
  
Missandei already knew and she had suspicions Ser Davos had at least an idea. Tyrion would surely know as well.  
  
"I know," she said apologetically, "and that was a mistake." She tried not to give too much thought to why she had not told him.  
  
They shared a moment of silence, both of them staring out into the vast expanse of the narrow sea. The weather was calm and cool, with a warm wind that ushered them north.  
  
"After the threat in the North is dealt with will you take him south with you?"  
  
She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "He has pledged his allegiance to me. The North knows the threat Cersei poses if she remains in power. My war is his war. Just as his is mine."  
  
She could see him shift uneasily on his feet. That was not the question he was asking.  
  
"There is a reason you left a man in Meereen, Your Grace," Tyrion said carefully.  
  
"That was different," her tone was defensive, her response to quick and eager. She regretted her choice of words as soon as they slipped from her tongue.  
  
"So Snow is different," it was more a statement than a question.  
  
"You have made your presence known. A million people live in King's Landing. They all saw your Dragons in the sky and your army outside their gates. The Lords of Westeros can no longer shrug you aside as a mere rumor or half-truth. Word will spread quickly and soon some, if not all, of the remaining Lords will turn on my sister. They will want to forge alliances with you and where alliances come so do marriages. As your Hand I need to know what you wish me to do with such offers."  
  
A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she turned her attention back to the vast expanse of water before them.  
  
"I don't know," she mused watching as the last sliver of the sun dipped below the horizon. They shared the silence both knowing she was lying.  
  
  
  
                                  ***  
  
  
  
Her fingers traced one of the scars on his stomach.  
  
"Bowen Marsh," Jon stated softly.  
  
She moved her hand up, running her fingertips over the next angry red mark.  
  
"Alliser Thorne."  
  
Then up and over his chest.  
  
"Olly, my steward."  
  
Her palm spread over him, covering the wound. She could feel the comforting beat of his heart under his flesh. No matter what had happened to him then, he was alive now. She took a deep breath and rested her head on his shoulder watching as her hand gently rose and fell with every reassuring breath he took.  
  
"Why?"  
  
She felt him tense for the briefest moments before relaxing again.  
  
"For thousands of years the Night's Watch guarded the realms of men against the horrors beyond the wall. But sometime along the way we forgot who the real enemies were. The White Walkers became nothing more than a myth. The only enemy left were the Wildlings. When I brought them south across the wall they saw it as a betrayal, as breaking my oath. I helped the only enemy they had ever known. They named me traitor and killed me for it."  
  
She moved closer to him, hugging his body tighter to her own. When she felt his lips press into the top of her head she continued.  
  
"How--" she paused taken back by the slight tremble in her voice.  
  
"A Red Priestess, Melisandre. I don't know how, or why, only that she did."  
  
Daenerys turned to face him, her eyes glassy.  
  
"I'm happy she did," she said before slipping one leg over his hip and leaning up to kiss him.  
  
  
  
                           ***  
  
  
  
"Eight hundred men from House Glover march to Winterfell"  
  
Daenerys watched as Jon tossed a raven scroll down onto the large oak table. They had arrived in White Harbor hours before. Greeted by a jubilant Lord Manderly and fistfuls of raven scrolls for both of them.  
  
"Seven Hundred men from House Dustin," another scroll tossed on the pile.  
  
Jon paused a moment and tossed a scroll down without a word and moved onto the next.  
  
"Five hundred men from House Reed."  
  
"That brings the total up to?" Davos asked looking at Tyrion.  
  
"A little over twenty thousand Northerners will welcome us at Winterfell-" Tyrion answered, "-with open arms, smiles, and wine I do hope."  
  
Jon raised an eyebrow at him but held his tongue instead going back to his scrolls.  
  
"Grain shipments and other supplies have been arriving from nearly every northern town. They've been stockpiling them at Cerwyn Castle and Winterfell."  
  
"Evacuations of Last Hearth and Karhold are almost complete, as well as the smaller villages closer to the Wall."  
  
She watched as Jon's jaw tightened and he reread the scroll in his hand, "Lord Petyr Baelish is dead. Executed for crimes against House Arryn and House Stark."  
  
She had heard rumors of the man but did not know him. But from the look on Varys and Tyrion's face Daenerys figured the news was unexpected. She looked to her two advisers.  
  
"What does this mean for us?" she asked.  
  
"It's good news," Tyrion replied cautiously. "I think -- Littlefinger had his uses but his goals were always his own. If the Vale raised no concerns I do not think we need to worry."  
  
"Hmm," Varys hummed. "Oddly poetic that Lord Baelish found his end by the hands of the Starks."  
  
"I figured he would outlive us all," Tyrion mused. "Does it say anything else?"  
  
Jon shook his head sliding the small piece of parchment over to Tyrion.  
  
"I guess that's one less thing to worry about then," Tyrion muttered before turning his attention to his own scrolls.  
  
He tossed a few aside muttering to himself before stopping and studying one for a moment.  
  
"Word from Dorne." Tyrion looked at Jon for then focused on Dany. "Quentyn Martell has returned home and with the help of the Yronwoods has taken back control of Sunspear and settled the civil unrest that erupted after the death of Ellaria Sand. Seems that house Martell is once again in control of Dorne."  
  
"That's good news isn't it?" Daenerys asked noticing Tyrion's troubled look. "Our alliance-"    
  
"Our Alliance was with Ellaria," Tyrion interrupted, he paused noticing Daenerys look turn slightly at the tone of his voice. He pursed his lips and bowed his eyes hoping it was enough of an apology. "Quentyn Martell would have no interest in continuing an agreement forged between us and the woman who murdered his father, his brother and tried to turn his entire country against him."    
  
Daenerys thought for a moment then sighed, "So the Dornish will stay in Dorne and sit out another war."  
  
"Not quite," Tyrion answered. Daenerys watched as his eyes darted at Jon for a moment before he looked back at her. She gave him a questioning look and waited for his answer.  
  
"Quentyn Martell is suggesting a new alliance." Tyrion studied the scroll in his hand. "He will pledge his allegiance, his army, navy, and the resources of Dorne to help you dethrone Cersei Lannister. The Dornish people will help support the rest of the country through the coming winter and he will forgive House Targaryen for the injustices inflicted on Elia Martell by you brother Rhaegar."    
  
"And what does he want in return?" Daenerys asked.    
  
"To join your houses. To Marry you."    
  
It did not come as a surprise to anyone in the room, more of an eventuality really, but still, an awkward, uneasy silence fell over the room. She couldn't help but steal a glance towards Jon.    
  
He kept his gaze straight ahead, his head slightly bowed. But she saw the muscles in his jaw clench. His sword hand flexing under the table.  
  
"There's no better way to forge alliances," Tyrion added, "And we knew this was a possibility. It is why you left Daario in Meereen."    
  
Daenerys glare shifted back to Tyrion, her eyes narrowing angrily at her Hand. Jon shifted uncomfortably beside her.  
  
"A political marriage was always inevitable. The Dornish army is almost ten thousand strong and even more men can be conscripted. They've been nearly untouched by all the wars that have plagued the Westeros over the last few years." Tyrion told.    
  
Again Jon shifted beside her.  
  
"They have a sizable navy and they'll be able to harvest food while most of Westeros will be blanketed with snow." Tyrion continued.    
  
"And if I decline his offer," Daenerys asked.    
  
Tyrion carefully regarded his Queen for a moment. "Dorne successfully refused Targaryen rule for centuries after all the other Westeroi Lords had bent the knee or burned. I don't doubt they will try again."    
  
Daenerys straightened her back. "Tell Quentyn Martell that his men and supplies would be greatly valued in the difficult times to come and that he should prepare his troops to march north where he can bend the knee to me personally. And that there will be no talk of marriage to him or anyone else until we have dealt with the Northern threat and Cersei."    
  
"Your Grace," Tyrion began, "Dorne will be vital for the coming wars. He is the best match of the available lords."  
  
Daenerys leveled her eyes towards him. "I will not repeat myself, Lord Hand."  
  
"It is late," Vary spoke before Tyrion had a chance to dare reply. His tone seemingly apathetic to the matter at hand. "Much too late to be having discussions like these and our hosts are preparing a feast in our honor, it would be rather rude of us to be late."  
  
Tyrion looked away, and Daenerys sighed and began to stand. "Very well," she said smoothing the creases from her dress. "We shall not keep Lord Manderly waiting."  
  
  
-  
  
  
She found him on the balcony of his chambers in one the taller towers in New Castle. His back turned as he stared out over White Harbor. She joined him outside, ignoring the cold chill of the winter wind.  
  
"It's beautiful," she said, looking over the city. A half foot of white snow blanketed the streets and rooftops. It reflected the moonlight, giving the city a strange soft glow that was unlike anything she had seen before. The soft powder muffled the sounds of the city folk and dock basking the terrace in an unfamiliar tranquility and making it easy to forget they were in the largest city in the North  
  
"You did not speak much at the feast," she offered softly standing closer to him, willing him to wrap his hand around her and pull her closer.  
  
"He's not wrong," Jon admitted, his gaze steady on the city below. "Dorne is too valuable to ignore."  
  
"I'm not ignoring Dorne."  
  
"And if Prince Martell refuses to bend the knee?" Jon said turning to face her. "I do not wish to stand between you and what you want. Dorne is a good match. They can help you win your throne."  
  
"And what if what I want is not a match with Dorne?" she said stepping closer to him. She could see the hope in his eyes for a fleeting moment.  
  
"I'm a bastard-"  
  
"You're a King." Daenerys interrupted her voice rising. Jon smiled sadly and shook his head.  
  
"Not in the south. To the southern Lords I'll never be more than Eddard Stark's bastard."  
  
Daenerys hand slipped over his. "Maybe. But maybe the southern lords are fools to judge a man's worth by the nature of his birth. I came to Westeros to make it a better place for all people. To destroy the wheel that kept so many people down." she pulled on his hand, leading him away from the balcony and back into the warmth of the room.  
  
Jon gave her the barest hint of a smile, a sad small thing, and let her pull him out from the cold.  
  
"You will do all that and more but it takes time to change the minds of men. Sometimes too much time."  
  
She reached up unbuckling his gorget with one hand while still pulling him into the room, closer to the fire, closer to the bed.  
  
"I know," she whispered sadly. He knew that first hand, the scars on his chest proved that. His armor fell loosely to one side and she went to work on the other buckle.  
  
"One step," she said as the buckle popped free and the gorget fell to the ground with a metallic clang. "At a time."  
  
Jon stopped, the back of his legs pushed against the bed but Daenerys continued forward until he sat. She climbed onto his lap snaking her hands under his tunic until they were close enough to share breath. "And you will be my first step to that better world, Jon Snow."  
  
  
  
  
                                 ***  
  
  
The sound Dany made was half a whimper, half a sob of pleasure as Jon moved on top of her.    
  
"Jon," she moaned louder this time as his pace increased. His movements were frantic and needy, his breath heavy in her ear as he took her. Her fingers dug into his back as she clung on to him.    
  
It had been three days since they had a moment alone. Three days of hard traveling along the road north to Winterfell. Three nights of her laying alone in her bed thinking of him, wanting him.    
  
They had stayed at White Harbor for a single night and before that they were alone on the ship for nine. Every night they had spent together. They had ignored the worried glares from Tyrion and the knowing looks from Davos and Missandei. They had savored every moment they could steal away for they both knew it could not last.  
  
Ten days and nights together and it had never been like this, so frantic and desperate and hard.  
  
"Daenerys!" Jon moaned into her ear as he slammed himself harder into her aching body. Her thighs squeezed him tighter. The unbridled need in his strained voice mirrored her own and nearly sent her over the edge right there and then. She held back a scream as sparks of heat shot up her spine.    
  
Tyrion had warned them, pleaded with them that the Northern Lords that had joined their march north at White Harbor would frown upon their relationship. At best they would think their King had been seduced by a beautiful foreign Queen. At worse they would be reminded of the last time the King in the North had fallen in love and the Red Wedding that left their fathers, mothers, and leaders dead. Tyrion had pushed further reminding them of the last time a Stark and Targaryen had got together and the tens of thousands that died because of it.    
  
Tyrion had made his point until they could not argue. Discretion was key, at least until the Northerners saw the might of her army and her dragons. So Jon had kept his distance and Daenerys' need for him grew.    
  
So when Jon showed up in her tent in the dead of night she had nearly pounced on him, eager to make up for lost time.    
  
"Jon." She cried out, "please,"    
  
A deep growl rumbled in his throat as he moved even faster, thrusting into her warm wet body with deep powerful strokes. He bit down on her shoulder and she could feel his body tremble over her.    
  
She was so close. It scared her how much she had missed him, how much she needed him. It scared her how good he felt and how he made her forget about all the things she thought she had cared about.  
  
She knew he knew the risks. The fallout that would result if someone had noticed him sneaking into the Queens tent, but he had come anyway, he had been unable to stop himself and she knew why. She held him tighter, her thighs squeezing him as she arched her hips to meet his.  
  
"I..." Dany shuddered her eyes going wide, she stared up the canvas ceiling of her tent her eyes seeing nothing. The winter wind blew heavily, muffling her moans to the rest to camp that surrounded them.    
  
"Jon," she cried out loudly and desperately as she felt the warmth between her legs spark and spread.    
  
"Shh," Jon whispered hoarsely. The heavy winds would hide a moan but not a scream.    
  
"I can't" she whimpered her eyes fluttering shut as she lost control of her body.    
  
Shock ran through her as Jon's hand came down across her mouth, muffling her scream as she hit her peak and her body ignited. Her body rocked and shuddered, his name heavy on her lips. For a moment her world went blank as the pleasure coursed through her.    
  
She gasped and moaned against his fingers clinging on to his back as she rode out her release. She felt him throb inside her as he joined her. He moaned her name into her ear and his once frantic pace calmed.    
  
"Jon," she whispered, out of breath and covered in sweat. His fingers slipped from her mouth and cradled the side of her head as he leaned up to look at her. Still nestled tightly inside her he dipped down capturing his lips with her own pulling back only when he had too.    
  
She smiled up at him. Love in her eyes. Gods had she had missed him. He went to move but she tightened her thighs holding him in place, she needed to savor this moment as long as she could.    
  
A soft chuckle escaped his lips and it made her heart flutter. She didn't know if she wanted to laugh with him or weep. She had come back to Westeros to find a home, but she had never imagined she would find this.     
  
"What took you so long?" She asked softly before leaning up to kiss him again.    
  
  
  
                                        ***  
  
  
"Come," Jon said his hand outstretched to her. She hesitated and gave a worried glance back at the traveling host.  They had been marching for almost a week leaving them a few days south of Cerwyn Castle. They were making good time, the Barrowlands consisted of mostly open plains and the snow had been light making for easy riding. Even still, her armies stretched out for miles in either direction.  
  
"The Northern Lords are well ahead of us, nobody but Unsullied and Dothraki as far as the eye can see," Jon motioned towards the long line of men who continued to march past them.  
  
If there were no Northern Lords nearby there would be no harm in it. So she took his hand gracefully dismounting her horse. It took all but three steps until her boots touched fresh powdered snow. She smiled at the soft crunch as the snow compacted under her feet.  
  
"We used to have snowball fights in Winterfell's yard and the Godswood" Jon said with a hint of melancholy in his voice.  
  
Daenerys looked up at him noticing is playful grin and the ball of snow in his hand.  
  
"You wouldn't dare."  
  
He grinned wide and she couldn't help but mirror it. He tossed it, underhand and gently, she caught it against her chest feeling the softly packed powder crumble against her.  
  
"Come I want to show you something."  
  
He took her hand and pulled her a few more feet off the road. Behind her a half dozen Unsullied stopped, stepped aside, and waited on guard.  
  
She slipped slightly in the snow, and his hands came to wrap around her waist holding her tightly. She sighed and leaned into him thankful for the moment of intimacy they would normally have to hide during the day.  
  
She held back the urge to lean up and kiss him.  
  
"That-" he said pointing to a tree line across an open field a few hundred yards from where they stood. "-is the southern edge of the Wolfswood. My father used to take me and my brothers hunting there."  
  
She stared off into the distance, the field was blanketed with untouched snow, the treeline had hints of green and brown peeking out from a covering of white. The air was brisk and the snow-capped mountain peaks were a stark contrast to the shockingly blue skies.  
  
"It's beautiful here," she said softly her hands squeezing his where they rested on her hips. They shared the moment in silence as she took in the beauty the north had to offer. This was his homeland, where he grew up, where he had became the man he was today. She twisted her neck slightly wanting nothing more to steal a kiss.  
  
"There," Jon motioned towards the treeline, "do you see?" Grudgingly she followed his direction but saw nothing but snow and trees. She shook her head.  
  
"What am I looking-" she paused as she swore she saw the snow move, shift on its own as if it came alive and was traveling along the trees. She squinted at the bright reflection of snow. It passed in front of a series of large trees letting her make out its shape.  
  
"Is that a wolf?" she asked unsure, it was too much too large to be a wolf.  
  
"A direwolf," Jon said as they watched the great beast glide through the snow.  
  
"Like your sigil."  
  
She felt him nod behind her, "The Stark sigil."  
  
A pang of sadness hit her then, not his, he was not a Stark. She swallowed hard and pushed that thought away. She watched as the wolf moved then stopped. She held her breath as she swore it turned to stare right at them.  
  
Then it moved, faster than she expected, or maybe it was just the snow and the distance playing tricks with her eyes.  
  
"Jon," she whispered her hands tightening around his wrist as the beast picked up speed darting towards them faster than she thought would be possible through the snow.  
  
"I don't know why I never told you about him."  
  
The wolf was close enough now so she could see his two red eyes staring back at her, his head low as it glided effortlessly through the snow quickly closing the distance between them.  
  
"Trust me, he's a friend," Jon whispered in her ear. She nodded back her fingers still tight around his arm.  
  
Then she heard a commotion behind them as the Unsullied noticed the white beast hurtling towards them. She heard the slick sound of steel being unsheathed.  
  
Jon turned raising and hand, "Daor," he said and Daenerys heart skipped a beat hearing him speak her mother tongue. The Unsullied turned to her and she nodded and they sheathed their weapons looking warily at the wolf quickly approaching.  
  
"When did-" she couldn't get the words out before she heard the crunch of snow before her, she turned just in time to see the great white wolf slow to a stop right in front of them.  
  
It was nearly as tall as she was, with teeth longer than her fingers. It leaned in, close enough to rip their throats out but instead it pressed its nose into Jon's face and he pulled back grinning before its large long tongue reached out licking him.  
  
"Ahh," Jon groaned, patting the wolf's head while trying to pull it away so it could not lash out again. The wolf hopped excitedly nearly knocking them both over in an attempt to get closer to Jon.  
  
He turned to Dany, "this is Ghost, my direwolf," he spoke before Ghost pushed against him again nearly sending them both toppling over.  
  
"You have a direwolf," she said in disbelief as she watched Jon attempt to fight off the large beast from covering his face with slobber.  
  
"Ghost," he groaned nearly grabbing the wolf in a playful headlock in order to get him to stop. "Is that so hard to believe, Mother of Dragons." he grinned back at her his wolf matching his gaze.  
  
His red eyes trained to Daenerys and she stopped.  
  
She remembered the first time Drogon had approached Jon, she so did the same pulling her hand free from her glove. Letting the direwolf sniff her for a moment. He left Jon, dropping his head low to sniff her stomach and up her chest before standing eye to eye with her.  
  
"Ghost," she heard Jon warn before she felt the wet warm tongue of the wolf slid against her cheek.  
  
She let out a laugh as Jon nearly tackled the much larger, much stronger animal to stop him from covering her with slobber. Ghost turned his attention back to Jon jumping at him in a playful manner until finally calming and curling around Jon's feet.  
  
She knelt beside Jon and ran a hand through Ghosts soft fur.  
  
"He's a beautiful beast," she said with a smile and earned a grin back from Jon.  
  
  
  
  
                                   ***  
  
  
Thousands of tents dotted the lands south of Winterfell, stretching the borders of Winter Town further south than ever before. A gauntlet on a scarlet field, a black lizard on green, a white sunburst on black and countless other sigils waved proudly on dozens of banners and flags scattered throughout the camp. On the call of their King all of the North had come.  
  
Daenerys gave an uneasy glance upwards to the sky. Her dragons had not yet arrived, they were still far south hunting in the Wolfswood. She turned looking at Jon as he ushered his horse closer to hers until their legs brushed up against each other. It was the only act of intimacy he dared surrounded by so many Northern Lords.  
  
"They're hunting in the South." she said softly twisting back hoping maybe she could see them in the southern skies.  
  
Jon smiled and shook his head. "Planning on making a grand entrance?"  
  
"The thought had crossed my mind," she turned back to the sight of Winterfell, she could already see crowds of people on the edge of Wintertown waiting to get a glimpse of their King and the Queen he had brought north with him.  
  
"It won't be needed," Jon assured her. "Besides, it's not your dragons that I want them to see."  
  
  
  
                                ***  
  
  
  
"I let Sansa take the Lord's chambers," Jon said at the unasked question that lingered in the air.  
  
Daenery took in the sparsely decorated room. There we no signs of him here, no sense of the chambers belonging to him or that this was his home. The floor and walls were lined with furs, a large hearth covered half of one wall, across from it sat large but simple bed, she let her hand linger on the soft mattress before turning to face him.  
  
"Is this your childhood room then?" she asked a mischievous look in her eye. She could imagine him as a boy playing in here, pretending to be a knight, saving a princess, and as he grew older doing other things to that princess.  
  
Jon shook his head, "No, why?"  
  
She pouted and puffed out an exaggerated sigh. "No reason," she stood and licked her lips stalking towards him. "It will have to do. For now."  
  
"Here? Now?" Jon replied slightly bewildered but unable to keep the smile from his face.  
  
Her grin was her only reply as she gathered his tunic in her fist, lifted onto her toes and captured his lips.  
  
  
  
                  ***  
  
  
  
From the crypts to the Godswood Daenerys had seen all that Winterfell had to offer. Now at the end of Jon's impromptu tour of his childhood home she stood in front of the Winterfell's Glass Gardens.  
  
The structure loomed large in front of her, as large as the Great Hall and unlike anything she had seen before. An iron frame held hundreds of finely blown glass panels. Behind it, a blurry wall of green and brown, hints of red apples and tomatoes could be seen through the transparent walls and door. Fruits that had no business growing this far north or in this cold of weather.  
  
"The Boltons left much of the Godswood alone when they raised Winterfell so luckily this remained mostly untouched. I guess they didn't want to push their luck with the Old Gods." Jon shrugged noncommittally. "I know you're not used to the cold." he reached out and took her hand.  
  
The delicate glass door opened and he pulled her through. It was like walking into a different world. Gone was the brisk air and chilling cold that bit painfully at her skin, replaced with a wall of heat and humidity that reminded her of sailing along the southern coast of Essos, not the frigid winds just outside.  
  
She marveled at the assorted display of plants. Fruits and vegetables from all over the world grew around them. Strawberries, Myrish oranges, some things she had not even seen before in all her travels.  
  
"Winterfell is full of surprises," Daenerys mused silently as she walked through the garden stopping under a fully grown lemon tree.  
  
"I know the cold can be difficult to get used too. If you ever needed to get warm"  
  
Covered in furs the warmth of the garden was stifling. She could feel the sweat bead on her back under her cloak, trailing a slow ticklish trail down her spine that reminded her of the last time they had been together.  
  
She stared at him intently and fought back the urge to attack him right there and then. She stepped closer, trapping him between her and the tree. "I think you'll do a fine enough job keeping me warm."  
  
  
                   ***  
  
  
Daenerys wiped the tears from her eyes and watched the grey skies and the unending snow that fell from them. The weather had taken a turn, battering Winterfell with so much snow and ice that at times you could hardly see your own hand in front of you. Winter was here and had seemingly sapped all the warmth from the world.  
  
The Dothraki were taking it hardest, too used to the breezy warm air of the Great Grass Sea. No amount of furs or fires seemed to keep them warm. A sickness had spread through them laying up almost a third of her forces. It might have been that same sickness that made her stomach turn or maybe it was the news Jon's brother Bran had just told them.  
  
The Night King had taken her child, her beautiful magical miracle, and turned him into a monster, a slave. A part of her did not want her to believe, could not believe the word of someone barely more than a boy. But how could she not when he had known so many other things he had no right knowing.  
  
She was losing everything.  
  
Three loud knocks on her door broke her out of her daze and out of her misery. The door opened slowly, cautiously. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to hate him, to pound her fists against his chest, to blame this all on him but she could not.  
  
She closed the distance between them letting his arms swallow her in a hug. Something heavy to her side fell to the ground with a dull thud but she paid little mind as she let out a stifled sob as her body trembled with grief for her lost child.  
  
"I know," Jon's whispered, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he repeated. Her hands went tighter around him clinging on to him.  
  
She calmed, his steady breath against her head lulling her sobs until she had no more tears to cry. His thumb crossed her cheek rubbing the tear stains from her skin. His own eyes red. She pulled him to the bed her feet knocking into something on the ground.  
  
A large tome, a diary it looked like with the seven pointed star painted in gold on the front.  
  
She sniffled wiping her face with her hand before reaching down and picking up the book.  
  
"What is this?" she whispered.  
  
Jon shook his head as if unsure how to proceed. He led her to the bed.  
  
"It can wait 'till morning."  
  
He could not meet her eyes, so she pulled on his chin forcing him to look at her. She knew him enough to know that it could not.  
  
At her look he sighed in defeat, he rubbed his chest before reaching out for the book.  
  
"After you left, Bran told me something else. Something you need to know."  
  
  
                  ***  
  
  
  
Jaime Lannister looked worse for the wear, standing, almost cowering in Winterfell's courtyard, his cloak pulled tightly around his neck. The southern man was not taking to winter well.  
  
"Cersei lied," he stated plainly to the small crowd that greeted him.  
  
Beside her on her right Tyrion shook his head, "Can't say I'm too surprised." he said in jest.  
  
"That's not all. She has sent Euron Greyjoy to hire the Golden Company in Essos."  
  
A heavy sigh came from her left.  
  
"How many?" Jon asked.  
  
"Ten to twenty thousand."  
  
She could feel the anger radiating from him. She leaned towards him snaking her hand to entwine with his, squeezing it gently. The act did not go unnoticed by the eldest Lannister brother.  
  
"Then why are you here?" Jon asked.  
  
Jaime Lannister looked down at the snow at his feet, then to Jon and Daenerys, his brother then finally Brienne.  
  
"I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it,"  
  
"Ha. The word of the Kingslay--"  
  
"Are you sure you wish to speak of broken oaths Lord Glover?" Jon interrupted, giving the older Lord a stern look before turning back and nodding at Jamie to continue.  
  
"I gathered the Lannister men loyal to me, the garrison in the Riverlands, freed Edmure Tully and reinstated him in Riverrun. Left him enough men and supplies to hold off a siege incase Cersei decides to march north, and took the rest with me. Close to two thousand men, and--" Jamie turned and nodded towards three older men in dark black cloaks.  
  
Tyrion narrowed his eyes. "Pyromancers, you brought Aerys' Pyromancers."  
  
"You said fire could kill the dead. Wildfire was too risky to transport but they know how to make more."  
  
Tyrion nodded and turned towards Jon and Daenerys, "see not all terrible news." he said but Daenerys still did not look pleased.  
  
"Ser Jaime when we last met on the battlefield you tried to kill me and one of my dragons."  
  
Jamie flinched then swallowed heavily. "We were at war Your Grace."  
  
"The weapon you used. Do you know enough about it to show our weaponsmiths to make more?"  
  
Jamie looked curiously at her then at Tyrion. "I believe so yes, but why?"  
  
Tyrion sighed. "You're not the only one with bad news brother."  
  
  
  
                          ***  
  
  
  
"I have to go after her," Jon shook his head and paced the small distance between their bed and the hearth. He lifted the quilt of their bed as if looking for something then stalked aimlessly to the other side of the room.  
  
"It was Arya's choice," Daenerys offered softly knowing he would not want to hear the words.  
  
He stopped and turned on his heel to face her. His lips parted but no words came, instead a defeated look crossed his northern features. He clenched his hand flexing the burnt palm as if often did when he was anxious. She reached for him, grabbing his fingers with her own.  
  
"It's a stupid plan," he protested.  
  
They had received word two days prior that the Golden Company had laid siege to Riverrun. A siege that Riverrun would not be able to hold off for long. Once they had retaken the Riverlands they would undoubtedly march north on Cersei's orders and clean up whatever remained- living or dead.  
  
"She can handle herself, you know that," she reassured him. His hand moved to his chest to rub the mark there, another nervous habit he had picked up but she beat him there laying her own hand softly over the scar that bothered him. "And she's not alone."  
  
Jaime Lannister had volunteered to go south and deal with Cersei himself. Northern Lords had warned them of betrayal but oddly enough she trusted the man and so did Jon. Sandor Clegane had agreed to go as well, citing unfinished business in the capital and the begrudged admission he would be all but useless in the fight to come.  
  
Arya had followed suit and Jon had quickly and sternly refused her request, but that had not stopped her.  
  
"She's a survivor," she told him, "she will survive."  
  
He nodded slowly his hands coming to wrap around her waist. She leaned into his warmth and felt him exhale. On the road heading south was the safest place you could be.  
  
  
  
                    ***  
  
  
"Blood of my blood," Daenerys moaned grinding herself against Jon. He was moving agonizingly slow teasing the moment out as long as he could.  
  
"Please," she begged thrusting her aching body up to meet him. Instead he slowed even more chuckling at her desperate attempts to end her suffering. She reached out holding onto the back of his neck until his forehead was pressed against hers and their noses touched. They shared heavy breaths until he finally stopped moving altogether.  
  
"I love you Daenerys," he whispered softly.  
  
The admission gave her pause and she stilled for a moment, her eyes softening. "And I love you."  
  
He smiled back at her and she took advantage of his momentary lapse of control rolling until she was on top and firmly seated over him. Her face flush, her eyes dark and with one hand firmly on his chest she rose up before sinking back down with a shuddering moan. She leaned over him, her braid free hair falling loosely around his face. He moved to meet her and she joined him halfway their lips crashing together with a shared moan as she began to move on top of him in earnest. They moved together as one, their heavy breaths and soft moans filling their warm Winterfell room until they collapsed wordlessly in each other's arms. Neither of them willing to admit that this might have been their last night together.  
  
  
  
                   ***  
  
  
  
Even from this height, she could hear the Dothraki battle-cries, the calls of her Unsullied, and the clashing of spear, sword and shield as the first wave of dead crashed against their front line.  
  
Drogon dived and she ignored the painful bite of the winter air as she steered him to scorch a line of fire across the battlefield dividing the first horde of corpses that rushed towards Winterfell.  
  
She looked for Jon but could not see him or his horse in the mass of people under her. She leaned back and Drogon responded with a roar and beat his wings bringing him higher into the sky.  
  
Red and orange streaks of a thousand flaming arrows dotted the sky erupting in small bursts of flame as they plunged into the walking corpses. Wooden frames of catapults and trebuchets creaked and whined under stress before launching barrels full of unnaturally green liquid into the air. The wildfire barrels hit the ground exploding in a roar and a flash of billowing green flame that ignited hundreds if not thousands of dead.  
  
The sound of battle filled the air as the men and women below her fought for their lives and all of Westeros, but she turned away and watched the skies and waited for her lost child to return.  
  
A dozen ballista sat on Winterfell's walls, two dozen more scattered in strategic locations all over the battlefield. All armed with massive dragonglass tipped bolts and manned by a team of four that kept a vigilant eye on their Queen and the skies above waiting for the enemy to appear.  
  
Nothing. The skies were clear. She urged Drogon to dive again driving a wave of fire across the enemy line stopping their forward momentum for just a moment before flying back up.  
  
Again she waited, readying herself for an attack that did not come as another barrage of flaming arrows filled the sky. So she dived again, burning as many of them as she could. Drawing lines of fire to block their movement and cover her army's flanks. She carved paths of fire to the White Walkers giving mounted knights and Dothraki the opening they needed to attack. Rhaegal flew beside her mirroring her movements. She could feel Drogon tire after another burst of flame erupted from his maw. But she dived again and rose until she could smell nothing but burning flesh and blood. But the dead kept coming.  
  
A sound of a horn blasted under her. A single blast. The dead had broken the first line. The Unsullied made walls with their shields the men behind them retreated past deep ditches of pitch and wildfire.  
  
The men fell back and torches fell and the ditches came alive with fire. Green, orange, and red flames spread outwards creating a wall of fire a thousand feet wide. But they dead kept coming. Throwing themselves on the fire until the sheer mass of them snuffed the flames out.  
  
She urged Drogon on, burning as many as the dead she could while funneling the rest into the strongest parts of her army. She dived again until her face and hands were numb with cold until Drogon roared back at her in protest. Again she dived until she feared Drogon would ignore her commands and toss her from his back.  
  
They fought as long as they could, retreating and lighting another wildfire soaked ditch buying them time. But she could see it from the skies that that's all they were doing. Buying time.  
  
Drogon roared in protest. Both of her dragons fire were getting weaker each time they dived to attack. No matter how many they downed the dead kept coming.  
  
She watched the skies desperate for the Night King, for her dead child to appear but they did not. She looked down at the battlefield, at the fire and death and the corpses of her men scattered across the field.  
  
They weren't losing. They had lost. The unending horde of dead were pushing closer to Winterfell, the Unsullied shield wall was all but gone. Even on their horses, the Dothraki were being overtaken. She scanned the battlefield looking for Jon but could only see death.  
  
It was over.  
  
She turned Drogon flying as fast as could to Winterfell. Horror tore through her at the sight before her. The sky was dark, the waning winter sun blotted out by hundreds of black ravens flying from the Winterfell's Maester's tower. It was the last warning to the rest of the Westeros. They had failed.  
  
They had breached the eastern flank and the dead were already pouring through Winterfell's gates. The dead were everywhere.  
  
She heard Rhaegal cry out and she twisted her head as fast as she could to see him dive down landing with a thunderous crash blowing a circle of flame around him. She followed her heart breaking as she saw Jon kneeling on the ground surrounded by shattered ice and corpses.  
  
She jumped from Drogon, his tail swiping across sending a dozen dead flying away from them.  
  
"Jon," she screamed falling to her knees in front of him. He was covered in mud and blood, his arm clenched tightly to his side. Beside him lay Ghost, unmoving, his once white fur stained red. She could hear them, countless footsteps of an endless army approaching.  
  
"We need to go," She told him, she pulled on him as he struggled to stand clutching his side.  
  
He looked towards Winterfell.  
  
"We can't."  
  
"It's over," she pulled his head towards her own. "Please, we have to leave," she begged. He nodded a distant look in his eyes and she helped him climb onto Drogon's back. They were in the air in moments with Rhaegal close behind.  
  
Drogon twisted as a blast of heat hit them from their side, almost as hot as dragonfire. The sky went green and they both turned to look. A massive cloud of green flame erupted from Winterfell sending half of the Great Keep tumbling into the courtyard and setting the Godswood aflame. Something or someone had lit the wildfire stores.  
  
They watched in horror as the ground around Winterfell south gate bulged upwards then erupted in a second larger explosion of green flame tearing apart most of what was left of the ancient castle.    
  
"Dany," Jon whispered from behind her the one arm around her tightening.  
  
"I know," she replied watching what was left of Winterfell burn.  
  
  
  
                             ***  
  
  
  
There was still hope. They had planned for this, a plan of retreat if the unthinkable happened.  
  
Cerwyn Castle was miles south of Winterfell. Far enough away to give them distance and time. Secure enough to hold horses and carriages to ferry survivors south. If Winterfell fell it was where they would meet, it's where they would figure out what to do next.  
  
They flew south holding onto that hope that their friends and family had fled safely from Winterfell.  
  
All that welcomed them were the dead.  
  
They made camp further south still. A secluded cave on an unreachable peak giving them respite from the horror of the what they now faced.  
  
Silently Daenerys had made a small fire and then had gone to work removing the armor from Jon's bloody and broken body. He looked pale and sickly, his downcast eyes saying more than his words ever could.  
  
He hissed a quiet painful groan as she peeled his blood-soaked tunic from his side. She held back a shudder as she saw the long deep gash that ran from his hip to the bottom of his ribs. With tears in her eyes she went to work cleaning the wound as best she could with what she had on hand.  
  
"We have to go south." he said softly. "There's a million people in King's Landing."  
  
She nodded her head. Cersei no longer mattered. The Iron Throne no longer mattered. They needed to be warned. They could fight, or flee, they needed a chance no matter how small.  
  
She slipped beside him on his good side, finding comfort when his arm draped around her as they both watched the fire unable to find sleep.  
  
  
  
                ***  
  
  
They found the Golden Company just North of the Twins. Twenty thousand strong. Knights in gilded plate, armored horses and elephants, a thousand archers and thousands more infantry. An army of exiles and sellswords, the greatest Westeros had ever seen.  
  
Daenerys had heard stories of how their officers would wear their wealth. Jewellery and gems worn proudly as proof of their past victories and status. Even from the skies she could see the stories had been true. The sun caught on their jewels and gems and made them glimmer and shine.  
  
The entire army turned and craned their heads upwards watching with dead blue eyes as the two dragons soared past.  
  
  
                 ***  
  
  
Riverrun was lost. Half the castle was on fire, the other half crumbled into the Red Fork.    
  
All that time they had been preparing, planning and training and the Night King had just flown past them, raising an army as he went. It was her fault, she had given him Viserion, she had given him the means to bring down the wall and the freedom to take Westeros. She had caused all this.  
  
Drogon turned and headed south.  
  
  
  
                ***  
  
  
How much could change in such little time Daenerys thought absently as she looked down at the remains of the sprawling city before her. A million people, good and evil, young and old, rich and poor all once called King's Landing home.  
  
Red, orange and green flames still burned many of the homes, the places of worship and trade in the city. The fire kept the dark night skies alit, basking the once great capital in an eerie unworldly glow. What wasn't burning was left in ruin, crumbled brick and charred black wood. At least the fires seemed to keep the dead that still lingered at bay, she did not want to think where the rest had gone.  
  
Most of the Red Keep had fallen, the roof of the throne room torn from its foundations. The once proud seat of the most powerful house in the world left forgotten and buried in the snow.  
  
In her hand she held three vials. Two of them without label, the other containing only a few drops of dreamwine. All three were as worthless as the hours spent scouring the ruins for supplies. The Red Keep and King's Landing had been thoroughly looted before whoever was left had abandoned it or died.  
  
She gave the throne a sideways glance, a terrible iron thing so many had died fighting over before turning her back on it.  
  
They had made their camp in a section of the castle had remained relatively untouched, a small tower hidden away near the cliffside with a courtyard large enough for her dragons to land. She made her way back to where she had left Jon sleeping.  
  
She stopped outside the door looking in. It was an old unused royal chamber she figured. A hundred years ago a prince or princess might have grown up here, or maybe it was reserved for visiting lords. It hardly mattered anymore. This would be as close as they would come.  
  
Missandei, Jorah, Tyrion, Sansa, Arya, they were all dead. She had come to Westeros to reclaim her throne, her home and instead she had doomed it.  
  
From the doorway her eyes lingered on Jon's sleeping form. She could see nothing but him, hear nothing but the constant agonizing rattle of his labored breaths. Her hand drifted to her stomach, resting over the small soft swell that she could no longer hide or ignore. She could not let herself fall apart.  
  
She gently lifted the blankets that covered Jon. His brow was covered in a damp sweat, his skin pale and sickly. She pulled the bandages from his wound. The slash itself was healing but the bruising around it had worsened leaving his torso and most of his chest a discolored brown, purple and grey. She watched helplessly as his chest rose and fell with each slow and shallow breath. He was not getting better and neither of them had the supplies or the knowledge to help him.  
  
He no longer had the strength to hold himself on top of Drogon so she had flown herself as far as she dared looking for survivors, for a Maester or healer or even a maegi. She had prayed for a red priest, then cursed their Lord of Light when all she could find was the dead. There was no hope left.  
  
She bent down kissing his brow before moving towards the terrace. Winter had followed them south. It was cold, bitterly so. Colder than Winterfell, colder than beyond the Wall. The Narrow Sea was freezing, small chunks of sea ice were already forming along the coast. Soon it too would be frozen and a million dead would march across. Behind her the bed creaked.  
  
"You should stay in bed," she said softly trying to stop the sob from escaping her throat.  
  
Jon grunted in return and pulled himself up slowly. His legs trembled as he stood then limped to join her on the terrace.  
  
His breathing was rapid and ragged. "You should fly east." he told her his voice soft against her ear. His hand wrapped around her resting protectively on her stomach. "Warn them, if it's not too late. Find a way to fight back. Find a way to survive."  
  
She turned in his embrace and buried her face in his chest to hide her tears and nodded.    
  
  
  
          ***  
  
  
  
She awoke with a shudder, her breath foggy in front of her. The hearth's fire had gone out sometime during the night, leaving nothing but the cold, a few smoldering embers, and complete silence.  
  
 A soft tremble shook her bottom lip and she closed her eyes.  
  
"Jon," she whispered softly knowing there would be no answer. She looked forward at nothing, unable to bring herself to look back. Her face the blank stoic mask of a Queen.  
  
She reached out behind her, a small sob escaping her as her hand caressed the cold flesh of his neck.  
  
"Jon," she whispered again turning to him, her composure lost, tears streaming down her face. She bit her lip holding back a sob. There was no red priest here, no miracle from the Lord of Light.  He was gone and there was no coming back.  
  
She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and hugged him close. Her body shuddered as she buried her face into him. There would be no happy ending. No growing old together, no kingdom to rule. No legacy to leave. He was gone and with him went everything. Their child would never know their father's face or the sound of his voice or how much he loved them. She had lost him, just had she had lost everything else. She cried, her sobs muffled against his body until she could not breathe, until the only sound she could make where soft wretched whimpers.  
  
Drogon and Rhaegal joined her in her sorrow and cried out in the distance.  
  
She wept, her face stained with tears, her eyes swollen and red. She pulled Jon closer. It wasn't supposed to be like this.  
  
Drogon and Rhaegal cried out again closer and louder as they raced back to their grieving mother.  
  
She had lost everything.  
  
Drogon roared, a desperate fearful cry, followed by Rhaegal and then finally a sound she thought she would never hear again--Viserion  
  



	2. Cop out

Viserion

Daenerys tear-filled eyes snapped open, vision blurred and in a panic she reached behind her to where Longclaw lay and prayed Drogon would reach her before Viserion, or the monster he had become, did.

Her knuckles crashed into the side of the heavy wood table. She ignored the painful hot sting that tore up her arm and reached for the sword instead finding the heavy binding of a book. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, its worn pages fanning out quietly. An empty wine glass followed hitting the wood floor with a sharp ting before rolling under the bed without breaking. 

Confusion washed over her like a breaking wave and for briefest of moments the roars of her dragons were forgotten. The book's pages, stained yellow from age, fell softly into place leaving the upturned tome open. She could see the text inside, she knew the book, a gift on her wedding day that she had read countless times. But she had left it-

She twisted around in a panic, silk sheets pillowed around her waist, only to find her bed empty. 

“Jon,” she whimpered her eyes blurring with tears once more.  
The bed tilted, no, the entire room rocked to one side and the familiar sounds of ocean waves crashing against a wooden hull filled her ears. 

The terrace that looked out over the Narrow Sea was gone. Replaced with a wall of wood planks and a small porthole. She no longer wore combat worn torn leathers, instead a silk gown soft under her touch. She brought her hand to rest on her now firm and flat stomach. She swallowed a sob of grief and blinked back more tears.

She knew this room, knew this place, the royal cabin of her navy’s flagship. The ship she had crossed the Narrow Sea in. The room she had spent nine days alone with Jon Snow in. 

Above her Viserion roared followed by Drogon and Rhaegal. He was alive and well. Flying, hunting, playing with his brothers. She stood, legs shaky and unsure and sought out her coat wiping her eyes clean with the back of her hand. She did not understand. She needed to see her children. 

Three firm knocks stopped her in her tracks. She stared at her cabin’s door unable to move or speak or look away. 

“Your Grace,” Missandei's gentle voice carried through the door, the handle turned. 

Missandei. She had died in Winterfell with the rest, but she hadn’t. None of them had. 

“Is everything alright?” Missandei asked concerned and surprised when she was swallowed in a hug.

Daenerys nodded quickly and tightly and pulled back, thinking her friend must have thought she had gone mad. 

“It’s nothing,” she nodded again, rubbing her face clean as best she could with the sleeve of her coat. “A troubling dream.” 

That seemed to be enough and Missandei did not push. 

“You wished for me to wake you when we could see it.” 

Daenerys’ brow notched with confusion.

“Dragonstone Your Grace. We can see it on the horizon. The captain says we shall arrive by midday.”

Daenerys wiped her face nodding, “I’ll be right up.” 

The door closed silently. Daenerys listened to Missandei's footsteps grow distant before she turned and leaned heavily against the door. Flashes of Jon pressing her against that same door flooded her mind. His lips on hers, his hands, the sound of his voice hoarse in her ear. She could remember so much about him, each scar that marred his beautiful body to the feeling of his warm breath against her flesh. She could remember how much he cared for his family, for his people, for her. She could remember the soft smile he saved only for her. There were other memories as well, of icy blue eyes, Viserson falling through the ice, Winterfell burning, Jon laying lifeless in their bed. 

She let out a deep shuddering breath and sank to her knees. But she refused to come undone, refused to shed any more tears. It had not happened, it would not happen. She steadied herself and stood, she would not let it happen. 

Tyrion and Varys waited on deck and gave her worrying looks when her gaze lingered on them for too long. The sight of three dragons in the sky brought a smile to her lips, she would not lose them again. She would not lose anyone. 

Beside her dozens of ships sailed with them. Targaryen banners, Tyrell, Martell, and Greyjoys. In front of them, on the horizon, Dragonstone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had initially planned to just have this included in the first chapter but I think without out it the first chapter works as a stand alone story (if you don't mind a bad end) Plus making it all a dream is a pretty huge cop out and kind of terrible writing so having it separated makes me feel less shitty.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. I'm going to try for weekly updates.


End file.
